


; perchance ;

by raedical



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Another Episode, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hallucinations, How Do I Tag, I promise, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Komahina - Freeform, M/M, Minor Character(s), Platonic Relationships, Possibly Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, So don't worry, buckle your seatbelt folks, dont worry tho it's fine, hospital au, it honestly has a happy ending, it's not as bad as it sounds, just hope for the best okay, the komahina is actually pretty happy, the prolouge is the only sad thing about this, the unrequited love is the hinanami btw, they're depressing by themselves, this is gonna be a long fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9241283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedical/pseuds/raedical
Summary: ; for changing will mean she is truly gone, this is what he is most afraid of. ;Waiting for your best friend to wake up from a coma is hard, especially when she's all you've ever known and there's no assurance that she'll even wake up. Hajime Hinata can't change anything, that's been predetermined, if he does then surely there won't be a future where he sees her again. He's tied to the hospital bed where she never moves, and then he's tied to a white haired boy who looks way too unhappy.(non-despair au)





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yes okay hi welcome to Angst, the story (not really).
> 
> All jokes aside, this is my first Komahina/Hinanami story. I have a billion ideas for stories, but I thought that a hospital au idea would be pretty nice to post, so I hope you enjoy.
> 
> !! Some of the content may be triggering to others (only really the prolouge), read with caution !!

It was the matter of being able to stay conscious until the sun came up just doing nothing but thinking that proved itself to be an inconvenience.  
Or perhaps his thoughts were the real bother?  
  
Be it or not, he was annoyed with himself for no real reason at all. He searched for an answer to this, and his conclusion was that he had gotten no sleep, or that his thoughts were just irritating in general. This was no real surprise, he was annoyed with himself all the time, to the point where it was almost like a second nature to him.  
  
He interrupts his own thoughts ( _because there's no one there to do it for him anymore_ ) and gets out of bed. He has no where to be and nothing to do. He would dislike to call himself a recluse, but the word almost fits into what he is, much to his dismay for that matter. He is tired, burnt out, annoyed, and hungry.  
  
Some of these problems cannot be solved, but some of them can. so he goes with trying to fix his hunger, since he hasn't eaten since the day before. He knows that he should do a better job of taking care of his body ( _it's the only one he's going to get_ ) but sometimes things just slip past him. Things like eating, and sleeping, and drinking, and attending his meetings with his several teachers. Little things that are actually important. Little things that he should care about.  
  
But the male does not care, he stopped caring and started living in his own purgatory, his own hell, his own reality. These thoughts bother him, so he changes the subject of focus. Change. Nobody really likes change, he knows that. It is too abrupt for him, too meaningful, too beautiful, too painful. It is too much of things that he does not like, but he lets things change. It's better that way.  
  
Instead, the male focuses on where his feet are going, where his body is heading. He was on autopilot whilst thinking, and somehow he ends up in the middle of the kitchen without really acknowledging how he got there. This tends to happen a lot, ever since 'it' happened. but 'it' doesn't matter anymore, he stopped caring about 'it'.  
  
Guiding his hand to the refrigerator door handle, he notes the temperature of said object under his curling fingers, and he tugs it open. The door creaks when it's cracked open, but he's used to this sound, and it assures him, reassures him, that nothing has changed. Because the door creaked years before and it still creaks now, no one has the heart to fix it. He's glad. At least it hasn't changed.  
  
When it's wide open, shining it's thin florescent light, aglow to his face and the tiles below, he feels a hand upon his shoulder. The light seeps into his skin and he isn't sure if the chill that goes down his spine is from the cold air or the pressure on his skin. He doesn't turn around to face them. He knows how this goes.  
  
They, _she_ , steps closer. Her hand is off his shoulder now and she wraps him in a soft embrace like she usually, no, like she _used_ to do. She's shorter than him, but she's standing on her toes to where she's at least up to his ear. He doesn't even blink. It isn't usual for her to come to him during the day, but it isn't unusual for her to come to him when he's like this.

  
_"Hey."_

  
He doesn't answer. he ignores her soft voice, he knows what she has to say, but he never lets her say it, never lets her get to him like that, even if she doesn't mean to seep into his skin like the fluorescent light coming from the lightbulb in the refrigerator. He can practically feel the frown searing into her face.  
  
And like that, like a blackout stealing away light ( _stopping electricity_ ), she is gone. An abrupt change he is used to, it is not beautiful and it's no longer painful, at this point, it isn't even meaningful. He is much too used to this, but no one minds, not even him.  
  
And he starts thinking.  
  
When he snaps out of his own self-induced trance he is standing in the corner of his room with an unopened pack of fruit and a fork with his own kind of frown on his face. He's no longer annoyed, just tired and hungry. Absentmindedly, the male walks over to his desk and sits down. Said desk is littered with papers and sticky notes and pens and pencils. He clears the objects out of the way, papers fluttered off to the sides and objects falling. He doesn't care.  
  
Chapped lips are forced open because he knows she would be upset if he starved himself. Clumsily, he eats and tries to keep the food down. Tries to keep his mind from thinking ' _this is disgusting_ ', tries to keep his stomach to stay solid. He manages to keep it down for a moment before eventually running to the bathroom that goes off from his room.  
  
Shaking fingers are shoved down a throat, and he gags.  
  
Whilst he throws up, she's there. One of her hands rubs his back, making circles in an attempt to comfort him. The other is running through his hair, trying to keep him from getting his hair dirty. It helps. When he's done she's still there, but she'll leave soon. He knows that. She always leaves too soon, leaves when he can still feel the touch of her fingertips on his skin.  
  
_"Hey."_

  
She tries again, but he doesn't let her. He won't let her do this to him. She understands, and she leaves. He has to question whether she ever really leaves him, if she's always there. And a part of him says she never left in the first place, that as long as he remembers she will always be there. She's always there to help him.  
  
He wishes he could've helped her when she needed it.  
  
He changes the subject of focus and wipes his mouth, brushes his teeth. The off taste of vomit is still on his tongue, but he stops caring. At least he tried. She'd be proud of that fact, because at least he tried.  
  
He wanders through his room, a feeling of numbness over him like the plastic film on TV dinners. When he's done walking, he looks at his bed. It is unmade, and he can't remember the last time he actually had the heart to get up and make it look neat. His whole room doesn't look neat. It's uncared for, it's messy, like him. Because he stopped caring.  
  
But he's too tired to think about how he doesn't care, too tired to think about how he really actually does care and so he walks over to the unmade bed ( _is it really his?_ ) and lays down. The covers envelope him in a warm embrace ( _never warmer than hers_ ) and he lets things go black for a bit.  
  
When he wakes up, he feels better. The amount of time that has passed is unknown to him, but he does not feel as numb or tired. She always helped with that.


	2. one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ; she never said the person's name, and he never said her's. she refers to the girl in the bed as nothing more than 'she', and he refers to the person she hates as nothing more than 'he'. they both had secrets, that was just the way things worked for them.
> 
> he didn't plan to change that. ;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I am aware that this is painfully short.
> 
> Yes I am also aware that it is almost 1 am in the morning.

Hajime Hinata is sitting in the middle of a cafe. A table with a window seat is the one he is seated at, of course. It is only typical for the brown haired male to be staring out the window as he sips his beverage ( _chai tea latte, one of her favorites from the cafe_ ).  
  
The students that do not have after-school activities are just getting out of school. Hajime has been out of school, hasn't gone to school physically in about a year, but he's still a student. Just a silly little independent study student, the students that do their courses online and meet with their teachers in a maximum span of every 2 weeks, occasionally sooner.  
  
But what kind of study student he is, he digresses. Students with all kinds of expressions on their faces pass by the cafe slowly and quickly, talking to one another or just sticking to themselves. Their cheap uniforms are rumpled and messy from a long day of classes, but most of them look happy.  
  
"Hey! Wanna go in the cafe, my treat?" A student, male, asks to another student, female. He can hear her consent, and they walk in. A lot of students come to the cafe after school, the time probably when it gets most busy. He is thankful that he came early ( _as usual_ ) and did not come when they were all arriving. It would have been hectic and nerve-wracking.  
  
But he doesn't think too much about that and focuses on his own self, on his own drink and then maybe he could go back to watching the people walk by. The chai tea latte is good but it doesn't play to his tastes. It isn't too sweet but it isn't sour or anything. It's mellow, calm. It tastes good, but it isn't him to drink something like this. But she drank it when she came to the cafe with him ( _much like the male and female who just walked in_ ). She genuinely loved it, but Hajime probably wouldn't have been able to tell at the time.  
  
If anyone knew that he was drinking something only because of the thought of her, only because that's what she did, they'd smile sympathetically and look at him with the eyes that sourly said '' _you're pathetic, get over it_ ''. Like he could, honestly.  
  
But, again, he digresses.  
  
Hajime listens as more students file in, talking to one another and ordering what they want. They all sound ignorantly happy to be out of school. To be there. It's normal for them, he supposes, since they are so young, most of them haven't had yet to face things that will really bring them down.  
  
It's not any of his business, he knows that, so he gets up and throws his drink away in the nearest trash can. After throwing it away, he grabs his things and leaves.  
  
Hajime always carries around a small backpack whenever he goes to the cafe, because after the cafe he goes to the hospital. Inside the back are things he needs, and things he supposes he just might need. Some of those things are for her, like the bouquet of flowers he got for her 2 weeks ago.  
  
The flowers wilted like all the others, but no one has the heart to take them out or throw them away.  
  
Hajime walks the opposite direction of the students , seemingly the oddest one there without a uniform and bag. Without light in his eyes, without anyone to chatter with on the way to where he is going. No one seems to notice or mind him, which he is thankful for.  
  
The thing is, Hajime isn't scared of people, he isn't depressed, and he doesn't have anxiety or anything. He just doesn't like people, just doesn't want to get too close. He is much more realistic, much more focused on what he has lost instead of trying to find something.  
  
He continues to live by the philosophy " _let things come to you_ ", because bad things happened when he went to others.  
  
Though it's honestly not like anyone ever really does come to him, he'd prefer if he didn't.  
  
The hospital isn't a far walk from the cafe, just the right distance and it always seems to be just too close, he'd wish it were farther. Everything in that location is tight-knit, close together.  
  
It's an old place, a sort of bad place if he were to think about it. Not the kind of place where you'd want to be if you were used to luxury. It is not overrun, but it is not widely known, nor widely funded. Jobs don't pay well as others would, but everything there is a bit less expensive.  
  
A lot of things go by unseen, a lot of things aren't even known. In that kind of place, you could disappear one day and no one would really go searching for you unless there was a large sum involved.  
  
But this is the kind of place that Hajime Hinata grew up in, and is glad to be there. It's a relief to know that if he were to mysteriously die or run away tomorrow no one would care, he would be essentially free until he hit actual rock bottom.  
  
He supposes he could have it a lot better with his parents wealth, the Hinata family is not widely known, but they have money. Enough money to probably be living somewhere better, somewhere traditional and classy. But his parents went abroad, and Hinata chose not to go with them.  
  
While they got away from what happened, he stayed. He couldn't leave everything behind. That was too much change for him. Too much of everything, he knew he couldn't leave.  
  
Sighing quietly to himself, he arrives at where he was supposed to be. The red letters that spell out '' _hospital_ '' glare down at him, but not really. He knows they are supposed to look friendly, and he is just overthinking things, so he steps inside because he doesn't want to have a battle with himself about this.  
  
The lady at the front desk knows him well, she sees his face often, but he doesn't know her name. He doesn't look at name tags, he doesn't really care what their names are. She probably knows his name by now because of how many times his name is written on the sheet in front of her, and how many papers he's signed.  
  
He comes into this place almost everyday, and almost everyone on her ward knows who he is and knows why he's there. The ward below her's knows him pretty well too, because there's a patient who is hellbent on talking to him with whatever chance they get.  
  
He supposes they'll find him and talk to him that day as well, when he goes to visit her room. He's memorized the number quite well, honestly, he knows where he's going.  
  
There's a click of shoes as people, patients, staff, walk down the halls just like him. They are all going somewhere, just like he is going to her. He has always found that sound annoying because he doesn't want to know that people are walking. He'd prefer silence, the kind of silence that happens when you walk really softly in grass.  
  
But it's a hosptial, and the grounds are essentially tile, so what can he expect? He can't exactly complain about it. Hajime has never been a truly rude person, he likes to stick to himself. He remembers when he needed social interaction like he needed to breathe.  
  
Hajime continues to walk down the hall until he reaches her room, and his breath hitches slightly. Looking through the window, he sees a not-so-familiar sight. Two adults, looking much like the girl laying in bed, are in the room with her. They do not look very expressive, and they remind him of mannequins.  
  
He has to assume if they're really even real people, but they're moving and breathing. He can faintly hear the steady sound of her heart monitor, and one of the adults in the room takes hold of her hand, running their thumb over the top before pulling away, looking a bit regretful.  
  
They continue to look at her, and Hajime feels a bit of anger bubble up inside him. There isn't much to look at, there isn't much to see in her. She's just a person who's being kept alive by a couple of machines, and she probably won't ever open her eyes again.  
  
And that was the result of the things people had done.  
  
When they finally see Hajime at the window, he turns away and waits for them to leave. He knows that they are her parents, and he tries to be respectful but he can't bring himself to face them, or say anything.  
  
And it seems like they can't seem to face him either. Cowards, everyone has a bit of a coward in them  
  
When they leave he doesn't step in like he should. He waits a bit.  
  
Waits 5 minutes. And then 10 minutes. And then that 10 turns into 15, and then 20.  
  
"What'cha waiting for?" A familiar voice asks. The patient who is infatuated with him. He sees her almost every time he comes there, she always seems to know how to find him. It's not a big surprise since he's always at the same place, but he jumps a bit.  
  
He turns around to look at her, and finds that she is looking at the window, at the girl in the bed.  
  
"Why don't you go in?" The female asks, studying what seems like everything in the room from behind the glass. Studying the girl in the bed, studying her like she is studying for a test. She always seems to do that.  
  
"Her parents came by, it's been a while since they've stopped to actually come to her room." Hajime explains slowly, looking at the glass as well, instead of the girl with the strawberry blonde pigtails.  
  
"Ah, I see, I see," she beings, slightly smiling knowingly, "She does not seem like the one to have caring parents, now does she?"  
  
Hajime nods, he supposes she sees it. This is one of the few times when she seems serious, solemn.  
  
"Well, Hajime Hinata. Allow me to tell you something," she brushes a bit of her wild hair out of her face, "If her parents cared she wouldn't be here, and you wouldn't be visiting everyday. I mean, look at her!" she starts making gestures with her hands. He gets it.  
  
"It's a despairing sight, really. Honestly! Truthfully! Super duper ultra ultimate despairing sight!" The strawberry blonde exclaims, Hajime shakes his head. All seriousness went out of the window, he spoke too soon.  
  
"But really...what kind of parents let their daughter play video games 24/7? Where is the concern for her? That's not the right way to live, is it? Even if you have a few friends...it seems...how do I put it? Lonely?"  
  
"We all have our ways of coping," Hajime tells her, putting his hands behind his back, "I think I'll go in now. You should consider stepping inside one of these days."  
  
"Maybe I will. It was nice talking to you again, Hajime Hinata." She murmurs, and he can't hear her as he steps inside, but he knows that she leaves.  
  
He sits down in the chair next to her bed and grabs her hand. It's not cold but it's not warm, and she's looking pale these days. She had always looked kind of pale, but she was healthy, he knew that.  
  
He has time to contemplate the conversation. Junko Enoshima. the person he had just finished talking to. He could honestly not claim that he knew her for very long, but he'd talked to her many times in the span that he did know her.  
  
He didn't know what she was in the hospital for, and didn't want to ask. It was hard just asking her name, and he didn't want to know the thing that would take her away from him. He wouldn't call her a friend, just another person who talked to him.  
  
She wouldn't call him a friend either. But she introduced him to a couple of other patients on her ward, which was the ward below. There was a couple of children that resided in the children's section of said ward that she introduced him to, and they seemed to take a liking to him.  
  
She always told him about her sister ( _who he didn't know the name of_ ) and a few other people, and she always used the word 'despair'. It seemed like her favorite word, but that was just a guess. Sometimes she'd talk about another person with such a bitter look on her face, as if she'd just ate a lemon.  
  
She never said the person's name, and he never said her's. She refers to the girl in the bed as nothing more than 'she', and he refers to the person she hates as nothing more than 'he'. They both had secrets, that was just the way things worked for them.  
  
He didn't plan to change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I said that this would be different from the prologue but now that i look at this, it really isn't.
> 
> Soo, appearance of Junko Enoshima? I think I'll insert Komaeda in the next chapter because this is supposed to be komahina after all.
> 
> Kudos and comments always make my day, so don't forgot to drop them? uwu Constructive criticism is always welcome!
> 
> EDIT ; I'm sobbing I put 'mirror' instead of window in the last few paragraphs this is why i should proof read.


	3. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ; the pond was a lot prettier up close, like a lot of things were. he leaned out a bit to peer into the water, and saw a bit of his own reflection. it was distorted, of course, and rippled. the moment was short-lived, however. ;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I would update a while ago, but here we are, two weeks later with this. I really just wanted a chapter with Komaeda in it now, since we're three chapters in I guess.

Sunshine filters through partially drawn windows, hitting a sickly figure propped up in bed by a few pillows. Said figure is staring out the window, not seeing much from the pesky curtains.

 

Nagito Komaeda doesn't mind much, even though the fabrics are blocking most of his vision from seeing the world outside. He just needs something to focus on, something to think about. The curtains seem to be that thing, even if it isn't ideal.

 

He continues to stare at the object as morning sun shines into his face. The curtains are thick, white, and fairly large, even if the window wasn't. In other words, they are bland and oversized. Not that he minds much since they aren't a bother to him personally.

 

Nagito shifts in his bed and sighs. The tray on his lap shifts with him and the objects clatter, things spilling and getting knocked over as he attempts to get comfortable. He feels a bit of apathy towards the fact that he had just made a mess, though he's glad it didn't get on the blankets. He didn't feel like calling for help.

 

Just as he was about to shift again (which would've made more of a mess, not that he cared) there was a knock on the door. Or, well, the doorframe. His door was already open just in case something happened, and he didn't like having it shut anyway. The outside noise was always pleasant to him in some kind of way. Relaxing, that's what it was. He turns to look up at the person who had entered the room.

 

A cordial young woman is leaning up against the door frame, a soft smile knitted on her face as she looks towards Nagito. "May I come in?" She asks politely. Nagito things she is too polite at times, too nice to someone like him. He does not deserve such good treatment, but she treats everyone this way. He had no right to reject her.

 

"If you want to." The male replies with an indifferent tone, her smile does not fade or twitch away. It is not that she is faking her smile, or that she knows how to mask things, but it is just that she is truly genuine. It was slightly surprising at first, but the shock wore off.

 

She steps into the room and notices the disarray on the platter. The cordial woman picks up the tray and sets it aside so it does not bother anyone. She has also always been this way, cleaning up after him and not minding the things he causes. Her name is Sonia Nevermind, a very courteous and intelligent foreigner who works at the hospital.

 

The female then sets up a chair by his bed and sits. Nagito takes in what she looks like today. Most of the time, she is unchanging in her style. She relatively wears the same things (of course, different actual items) and looks neat as usual. He has to admit, she looks professional but welcoming.

 

That day she was wearing a collared white blouse with a fairly dull and thin red bow that hung down lazily. The blouse was tucked into a dark green, slightly turquoise, pencil skirt. Over her shoulders hung a long wine colored coat that was unbuttoned and went to about her mid thigh. It was usual to see her in this kind of attire, with her hair up in a usual ponytail.

 

Her green eyes scanned him curiously, and slowly. He slightly hated the way she did this. Only a therapist could give such a glance, as if they were trying to study you, see right through you. That's what she was, however, a therapist.

 

Nagito was opaque though, her methods of looks did not work well on him, and she was well-aware of this.

 

"How have you been? I have not seen you in two days, so how have those days been? Any changes that you are aware of?" The blonde asks gently, bringing a small flip notebook out of her coat pocket along with a pen. Most of the time she carries this around, that is what he is sure of. She keeps notes on her patients sayings for evaluation.

 

"Fine. No changes." Nagito keeps his replies short and simple, to save her time. Though he supposes that really doesn't help her much, if she wants to assist him with his behavior and emotions. Her pen starts moving, and he isn't curious as to what she is writing. The pen is slightly thick and it's a grand goldish color. He honestly wonders where she gets her things, since most of them seem very expensive and beautiful. She is foreign after all, so it was very likely that she got them outside of Japan.

 

"Just like two days ago, then? I see, I see. Perhaps I should arrange to take you outside of your room for a bit, or have someone to do that. You should seek changes, I believe it is the way to help in this situation as of now. Wouldn't you agree?" She continues to question. Nagito does not agree, however, and does not want to 'seek changes' as she had put it. He would rather let what he has kill him instead of putting an effort up.

 

"That sounds stupid." He's too impulsive, he knows. He doesn't care if the insult hurts her feelings though. It's not like it'll matter in the long run. She forgives him anyway, like usual, and laughs it off. She's not hurt at all and he wonders what kind of iron heart she has. He sighs.

 

"Perhaps I will bring in the dogs again then! They seem to always brighten your mood, and they're dying to see you again." Sonia exclaims, a benevolent smile on her face. Sonia Nevermind combined a lot of therapy types into her sessions, like therapy with animals. That was, perhaps, Nagito's favorite if he had to pick. It was a lot better than being questioned all the time. 

 

"Okay." The white haired male responds and she continues to smile.

 

"I suppose it is settled then!" The female clicks her pen closed, flips the cover of the note pad and puts her things away, seemingly happier now that they had come to an agreement. But he knows her, and knows she is stubborn. She will probably get him to come out of the room anyway, seeing a change of scenery might have been good but he was too tired for that. Before their session ends, she tells him she will call up the nurse to take the tray and situate him.

 

After she takes her leave, Nagito grabs the remote for the TV and presses the 'on' button. He surfs through channels, looking for something that will interest him. He has to say, the channels that the hospital has are pretty lame, but he can't complain all that much. At least he has a TV in the room.

 

He settles on a cartoon that doesn't seem all that entertaining. He could literally feel himself losing brain cells as he watched, but he found this as a good way to pass time. Watching cartoons mindlessly, that is. He hardly payed attention as the nurse walked into the room and took away his tray, and he didn't even remember her leaving.

 

* * *

 

Nagito watched for a good two hours before checking what time it was. Around two in the afternoon, more or less. He shook his own head at his own behavior, it wasn't like him to get lost in silly shows like that. Nevertheless, he felt himself grow a bit tired but restless at the same time. He couldn't remember the last time he actually slept well.

 

"U-Um...Excuse me...? K-Komaeda-kun?" Ah, the nurse came back. She stood in the doorway nervously with a wheelchair right beside her. He wanted to sigh yet again. So Sonia had been serious about getting out. He did slightly wish she had been the one to take him though, as his nurse had always seemed to be too nervous around him and he did not want to put in any extra effort to console her.

 

Her name was Mikan Tsumiki, who probably had the brains to be a doctor but was a nurse despite that. She was a bit odd to him but considerate as well. She had her normal, designated nurse uniform on which, in truth, was quite bland. Her hair, however, was not. She had medium length hair (going down a bit past her shoulders) that was unevenly cut, looking like it was almost chopped. The color was a dark purple, perhaps a bit of brown. It was a bit unrealistic, but he really couldn't say that since it would be hypocritical.

 

He offered her nothing more than a nod, which she correctly interpreted to 'bring the wheelchair'. She wheeled said object over and helped him get inside. She waits a moment as Nagito shifts around, attempting to get comfortable in the cheaply-made object. After doing so, she wheels him out of the room and Nagito has to note that she's probably actually pretty strong from handling these kinds of things. He's as appreciative as an apathetic person can be, which isn't a lot.

 

He takes in the scenery around him as she brings him out of the room, and soon forgets that she's even there. The hospital floor is tile, just like it is in his room, and looks cold but clean. Pristine. There are quite a few halls and quite a few rooms on his ward. A few people passed him by, which Mikan greeted nervously (those were the only times where he really became aware of her presence) and he paid no mind to them.

 

Most of them were staff, or a patient accompanied by one. He liked the sound of their shoes (normally heeled shoes) clicking against the tiles. It sounded like a normal occurrence. Mikan had to take him down a floor in order to get to the lobby area of the hospital. In the lobby there were a few people, not a lot. He was glad, he didn't like seeing a lot of people anyway.

 

The floors here were carpeted and Nagito noticed that Mikan had little to no trouble with wheeling him on the new texture. It took him a moment to realize that it was probably because she had done this before. The times when Sonia brought him out were different, though this wasn't the first time Mikan pushed him around in the wheelchair.

 

Mikan walked up to the front desk (whilst pushing Nagito) and told the occupant there that she was taking a patient outside. The occupant okay'ed it and Mikan wheeled him outside. Once there, he figured that he liked it out there. The air was fresher, more crisp and it didn't smell like medicine or things that the hospital smelled of. He figured that yes, this did actually help a bit.

 

It got his mind off things, and it was relaxing. There was a slight breeze and it was quiet but wasn't at the same time. He figured he could enjoy this. The female continued to wheel him around, staying away from the parking lot and instead going to the behind of the hospital. It was a long walk to the back but it was worth it. Behind the hospital was beautiful.

 

There was a lot of sidewalk and grass and flowers. It was very beautiful, and he saw a few other people there as well, some he assumed were patients and some he assumed were staff on break. Mikan must have also liked this place if she was willing to walk that far. It was more calming than outside actually was, he supposed this was also the same for Mikan.

 

Nagito also noticed that there was a small pond there, looking well maintained. It probably was already there, since he knew the hospital most likely wouldn't waste money on having a pond built. It looked more natural. The purple haired woman must have noticed him looking at it, as she takes him over there without a word. She seems a bit confident in her decision.

 

The pond was a lot prettier up close, like a lot of things were. He leaned out a bit to peer into the water, and saw a bit of his own reflection. It was distorted, of course, and rippled. The moment was short-lived, however.

 

"P-Please do not l-lean out! It would be h-horrible if you f-fell!" Mikan says, and Nagito leans back in the chair. He doesn't mutter an apology, or anything really. He can tell she's close to tears by a lack of response, even if he's not looking at her. She probably thinks he's angry with her, but he's not.

 

"Say, Tsumiki, can you bring me a flower?" He asks a few minutes later. She takes this as 'forgiveness' and rushes off to find him an adequate flower. When he is sure she is not looking, he leans over again and looks at his reflection. This time, he has leaned a bit farther than last time but he is holding onto the wheelchair so he does not fall or something.

 

He has not looked at himself in sometime, though he knows what he looks like. He isn't surprised at what he sees. This, too, is short-lived as he hears Mikan come back. He positions himself in the way he was before so she does not worry about him. She seems to not notice when she comes back with a few flowers selected.

 

She nervously hands him the flowers and he takes a look at them. They're pretty, and he's sure she picked the best she could find. The gesture is nice in itself, but he doesn't thank her. She wasn't expecting any gratitude though, and gives Nagito one last glance before going to sit down on a bench nearby. She's facing him to make sure nothing happens, because if something did she would be responsible.

 

Nagito takes a look at the flowers. He brings them closer to him. They're a lot prettier up close, like the pond was. In his time at the hospital, no one brought him flowers. There was really no one to bring him flowers. Not that he minded. He honestly didn't see the point in missing or wanting something that he's never had before.

 

But these flowers are nice, even if they wouldn't look nice on the bedside table in his room. They, perhaps, would bring life to the room if he had them there, but they seemed like they would clash with everything else there. It simply would've bothered him to see the flowers, full of life sitting there, while he was dying. Though, they'd probably die and wilt with him. He didn't like thinking about that.

 

Instead, he plucked the petals off slowly. Mikan did not seem bothered. He kept the petals in his lap, and once he only had stems he looked down at the colorful, controlled chaos. Skinny, pale fingers picked up a few petals, examining them and noting that they were soft, but not fuzzy or anything.

 

After examining a few, Nagito threw the stems in the pond. One by one, he also threw the petals in as well. It looked very nice, and he wanted to come there again. He relaxed in his chair, staring at the water. Mikan figured that this was the cue to wheel him back to his room.

 

He'd like to add a bit of change to the pond, perhaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Sorry if Sonia and Mikan were a bit ooc, I've never written them before, but there's a first time for everything. I'm ultimately kind of satisfied with this chapter even if it was uneventful.
> 
> But before I go, just imagine Sonia with her hair in a ponytail okay it is beautiful to me, and imagine her in a pencil skirt. Also, imagine Mikan with short hair and you've imagined a beautiful goddess okay I love them both.


	4. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ; It’s funny how unrealistic things can be when you’re stuck in a hospital bed, how weird thoughts come to you. ;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have anything planned out but that's okay, here's a spontaneous update.

It’s funny how unrealistic things can be when you’re stuck in a hospital bed, how weird thoughts come to you. One of those unrealistic things? His eyes feel like they’re glued shut, but he’s logical enough to know that this is not a possibility. Knows that he just tired like he is all the time, but more so that day because he had not slept in the previous. But it’s kind of funny that he considers himself ‘logical’ when his doctors would say otherwise.

 

Despite this, his eyes still do not open and he doesn’t try to get them to respond. He supposes that this is one of the reasons why they feel like they can’t open, but he doesn’t want to even begin to try to sort out reasons. That’s what he does, he overthinks things and he reasons with himself, with others. That’s just who he was, if he was being completely honest with himself, which he didn’t do most of the time. Well, he tried to, but that didn’t come easily like lying did. If good things were easy then the world would be perfect, he guessed.

 

“Komaeda.” He hears a voice (laced with unfamiliar toning) call a name that he has to think about for a moment. Was that his name? It was a likely possibility, that or maybe the voice was addressing something else and not him. Who was he again? He had to think for a moment, and he blamed the sleepy haze of medication and insomnia for the hasty moment of forgetfulness. He was Nagito Komaeda, that he was sure of.

 

So, then had this person who had said his name been trying to convey something to him? Perhaps a message, or they were trying to get him to open his eyes. There was the possibility that this person wasn’t even real in the first place, and that he was hearing things. Nagito Komaeda never had heard things before though, and he had no clue as to why that would be happening out of the blue, so he comes to the conclusion that yes, there was a person trying to communicate with him and that no, he wasn’t going to respond.

 

“Komaeda…” The voice goes again, and the white haired boy tries to distinguish it as something familiar, but nothing comes to mind at the moment. In his state, the voice sounds a bit distant and unusual. A bit dream-like. He dismisses his thoughts, this was nothing worthy of thinking about. There were plenty of other things to do. Like lay in bed and sleep until he got bed sores. However, his body does not cooperate with this thought and he wonders if he should sigh, but he doesn’t either way. He goes back to thinking about the voice (as it had not interrupted his thoughts again, he figured that it had given up).

 

It sounded oddly feminine, higher-pitched than a male’s. That was surprisingly easy to tell if he thought about it hard enough, but the memory was fading away quickly so he had to think fast (he wondered why he was doing this in the first place, like it was something urgent). Racking his brain for memories, he found that he had been too tired to try to look hard enough. Everything was dark and slightly comforting, slightly warm. That must’ve been the bed he was laying in. The presence of being half-unconscious and conscious was extremely annoying though.

Even though he had only just begun trying to decipher the voice that he had previously heard calling his name, he gave up quickly. It got boring fast, and if sleep wasn’t going to come to him then he would ponder something else. But there wasn’t much else to contemplate in that darkness, so he found himself thinking of said thing and going back to how his eyes feel like they’re glued shut.

 

Like he had thought before, the darkness was oddly warm and comforting (in which he thought it was because he was in his bed). He had no idea why he thought it was comforting though. The darkness hadn’t been frightening or uplifting, but now it was suddenly like this. He supposed that it was because it wasn’t being harsh on his eyes like the light normally would’ve. It was dark because he had his eyes closed, of course, and he couldn’t think of any other proper explanation than that. But it’s like a flash when he sees something that he doesn’t understand.

 

Nagito Komaeda doesn’t understand a lot of things, he knows that, but he also knows that his knowledge spans to various subjects and things. It’s not uncommon that he’ll misunderstand something, a lot of people do, it’s just not usual for him to be completely bewildered because he literally has no idea what just happened. It was just a flash of a bit of light, a bit of color, but he _knows_ that his eyes were not open in that moment.

 

It happens again, but only for a few moments longer. He still doesn’t understand, as the image, whatever he is seeing, is too fleeting (like most things are). So he waits in hopes that it’ll return again, and it does.

 

This time he does understand it (third time’s the charm, he’s lucky). It’s something he tries to recognize but only briefly, he’s sure he’ll remember when his eyes open. It was water, a quick scene of pretty water. That was all. He doesn’t understand any more than he did then when his eyes opened.

 

“Komaeda!” It’s the voice again, but this time it is louder and filled with slight irritation. He wonders what he’s done wrong this time, but before he can think too much, the voice jostles him awake. He sits up slowly, eyes opening very quickly in slight surprise at the loudness that he had just heard. He’s not used to things being loud anymore.

 

Looking towards his left to see who this culprit is, his sight is filled with a familiar and trusted person. Sonia Nevermind is sitting in her normal chair, which is pulled up next to his bed. He eyes her for a moment, taking in her appearance. She looks normal, other than the expression of light concern on her face. Well, it’s as normal as Sonia Nevermind could get.

 

He suddenly remembers that he had been in a session with her, that it had been roughly three days since he’d last seen her due to her having emergency meetings with a patient of hers (Mikan had informed him). He feels a bit rude for zoning out, or whatever he had been doing prior.

 

“What happened?” He asked, referring as to why she had shouted his name a moment ago.

 

“You’d fallen asleep in the middle of when I was talking. Have you been sleeping?” The blonde asks, more concern lacing her tone. He doesn’t like the way she sounds for a moment, but forcedly pushes that thought away. He hadn’t, in fact, been sleeping, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

 

“Yes.” He replies, short and simple. She won’t know. It’s beyond him how she sees past that before she explains it, and her eyes narrow at him.

 

“Komaeda, there are bags under your eyes.” She sounds slightly exasperated.

 

“Thanks, they’re designer.” Nagito replies, as if on instinct.

 

Sonia groans loudly.

 

* * *

 

It’s another three days later that Nagito is without Sonia, and he doesn’t mind being alone as much as he thought he would. The last time they interacted was fairly light and nice, both deciding that they didn’t want to turn that day into anything depressing. He liked it better that way, it seemed relaxing for a change.

 

However, he sits in bed and the interaction is far away from his thoughts. Instead, he is focused on recollecting his ‘dream’ from three days ago. Nagito is sure that he had seen the pond, but he isn’t sure what it means. All he knows is that he wants to see it again, and briefly considers asking Mikan to take him there again when she comes in to give him lunch, but decides against it. He wanted Sonia to see it next, he was sure she’d like it (but then again, Sonia was very unpredictable in her likes and dislikes).

 

Closing his eyes, he thinks long and hard about the pond, trying to conjure up the image in his head. It’s a lot grander in his mind, but he doesn’t seem to mind much about that either. Nagito Komaeda has been indifferent and apathetic for as long as he’s been there, so there’s not much worrying about that. He wants to imagine people at the pond, wants to imagine looks of happiness, beings with no problems, but when he even tries it leaves him feeling a bit worse than usual. He clenches and un-clenches his fists a few times.

 

Then he tries to imagine the pond in the winter, when everything is cold and dead (much like he thinks he’ll be). He wonders if it’ll get cold enough to the point where it freezes over, and the answer is probably yes. It always gets extremely cold there, and it snows as well. Snow is nice, he considers for a moment before he realizes that he’s gotten off topic. Nagito wants to know what the pond will really look like when it freezes over, if maybe there would be pretty things stuck in the ice, waiting to melt when Spring decides to come.

 

That sounds rather nice, he concludes before closing his eyes and slowly letting the warmth of his _really_ comfortable blankets (who knew hospital blankets could actually be cozy) envelope him.

 

He doesn’t dream that day.

 

* * *

 

It’s promptly another day when his doctor comes to visit him, just a check-up, nothing major like things usually are. He still hasn’t seen Sonia, and there’s no news from Mikan so he assumes that she’s busy. He can only imagine being one of few therapists in a hospital, even if there aren’t that many permanent patients.

 

He’s sitting up in a different bed while his doctor continues the check-up. The doctor is a rather grumpy looking kind of male, Nagito notes, and he always seems stressed or annoyed whenever he visits. It’s explainable though, he’s sure that the doctor has a lot of work to do all the time so he never asks. Unlike himself, the doctor has no problem asking things. He’s blunt, to say the least.

 

Said male isn’t too old but he isn’t too young, and from what Nagito knows he’s a very good doctor and neurologist, which is always nice he supposes. His personality isn’t very endearing though (not that he minds). His name is Matsuda, and that’s all he really knows. He doesn’t know his first name, not that he really wants to know. Matsuda has slightly long, black hair and pale blue eyes, and he usually wears normal doctor’s attire when he’s around Nagito.

 

The white haired male has never really seen Matsuda with casual clothes on, and Matsuda has never seen him out of his hospital gown so he supposes that they’re even. Continuing to think and hypothesize about the doctor, he barely notices when the check-up is over. Those things usually go by fast compared to other things so he’s kind of grateful, but not really. Matsuda writes some things down before dismissing him and leaving. He waits a few moments before a nurse comes into the room with a wheelchair.

 

It’s not that Nagito can’t walk, it’s just that sometimes he’s unsteady on his feet and stumbles a couple of times on some occasions. He thinks he can walk fine, but the nurses disagree and don’t want him to hurt himself so he goes around in a wheelchair. He thinks it’s dumb, that he’s just a bit clumsy, but they don’t want to risk it. He doesn’t care much.

 

Sitting in the wheelchair, the nurse walks him out and back to his room. He’s grown accustomed to the path that they take, since the hallways never change. Nothing changes much there, it’s all repetition that he’s used to. He’s in a bubble where things repeat and he’s honestly just fine with that, he’s comfortable. Nonetheless, he’s never really aware of his surroundings he just knows they’re there. When he’s back into his room, he gets back into his bed and turns on the television.

 

His room also remains the same, nothing really ever changes like the hallways and that’s okay. He’s content with how things are, he’ll be content till his dying days. His lack of aspiration and motivation is kind of scary, Sonia told him that once. But he can’t remember when he honestly had motivation to do anything other than lay in bed, but that’s fine too.

 

He spends mindless hours, or maybe even minutes, watching the TV. Its bright kids’ cartoons again that he’s grown used to, even if they’re really dumb. Sonia Nevermind quietly walks into the room, her blonde hair swaying behind her. He notices that she has it’s down that day, and that she doesn’t look very professional.

 

Sonia looked very plain but homely that day. She’s wearing a large, light gray knit sweater and worn blue jeans. It’s nice to see her look so casual, but he’s a bit suspicious because she also has a backpack on and a smile that can only mean she’s about to try to either suggest something or do something that is different than normal. He lets out a quiet sigh as she pulls up her normal chair and slips off the backpack.

 

“We don’t have a session today, are you off?” Nagito asks, looking at her cautiously. She smiles wider, knowingly.

 

“For the rest of the day. And I’m here on my own time! We’re gonna do something today and it’s going to be really fun.” She replies, still grinning as she unzips her backpack. He’s nearly ready to throw it when she shows him what’s inside.

 

“Why.” He says, it’s more of a statement than a question. The blonde laughs quietly, dumping the contents of the bag onto his bed. He shakes his head and sighs at her antics (he should really keep track of how many times he sighs when she’s there).

 

On his bed lays _a lot_ of nailpolish, hairbrushes, and other hair things. He was right about Sonia having something in store, she’s Sonia Nevermind after all. There’s also a tablet on the bed, and he assumes that it’s her own (because the case screams Sonia). She grins wider than he’s seen her do before.

 

“We’re going to watch one of my favorite documentaries, paint each other’s nails and do each other’s hair! No ifs, ands, or buts about it, you hear me?” Sonia asks, an excited look in her eyes. Nagito really has no chance against the female, she’s really too stubborn and he’d lose to her in a fight anyway. Well, he really doesn’t have the will to fight either way, so he supposes it’s better to just go along with her. He just shakes his head in disappointment and she takes that as a yes.

 

It takes a few moments for her to turn off the TV and get the documentary going. Of course, it’s about a serial killer that hadn’t ever been found. He’s heard her talk about a decent amount of documentaries but he didn’t think he’d live to see her favorite one. He thinks he should be happy that she is doing this for him, but he doesn’t say anything.

 

The documentary plays quietly in the background as she chatters, talking to him. “Hm hm, what color? What about a lilac?” She asks, and he just nods, murmuring that it’d be nice. She nods right on back and grabs a dark lilac purple off the bed, shakes it, and he gives her his hand.

 

“So, Tsumiki told me that she took you out! Did you have fun?” Sonia asks as she finishes painting his thumb like an expert and he’s really shocked at how well she can do this, but he tells her that yes, he did have a bit of fun.

 

“Anything cool?” The blonde continues, moving onto his index finger. He decides that he likes the color, and that Sonia is nice for doing this. It’s actually really wonderful like that, he feels like he has a friend. She’d probably say something like ‘we were always friends’ and then hug him.

 

“Yeah, actually. She took me to the back of the hospital. It was really pretty there.” He informs her, and she looks at him with surprised eyes as if she didn’t expect him to actually _like_ something. It was uncharacteristic for the apathetic male, but she breaks out into another smile. She asks him to describe what was pretty as she finishes painting his hand, moving onto the next one.

 

“Well…there were a lot of flowers. And a lot of grass. It was colorful and nice outside. The breeze was okay,” He starts, and she hums in acknowledgement. “There were a few people there, but there was a nice pond too. I really liked it.” He finishes, deciding that his description wasn’t very good but it’d make do for her.

 

She meets his eye for a moment, a mischievous glint in the blue orbs. “See any hot guys?” She asks, doing her best not to laugh as Nagito sputters, having not expected such a question. She accidentally messes up his hand during all the blabbering (Nagito) and laughing (Sonia). They take a few minutes to calm down, and she has a peaceful smile on her face by the end of it.

 

He knows she was just joking, Sonia doesn’t avidly try to set herself up with people, or set Nagito up with any other people. He doesn’t mind though, it was kind of funny. He thinks that she’s done with the subject of seeing anyone, or meeting anyone, but she’s not.

 

“You know…it wouldn’t be so bad for you to meet new people. I think it’d be good for you!” She exclaims, and he does his best not to grimace at her suggestion when she finishes his hand, cleaning up what she messed up. He takes a moment to respond as he picks out a color (a pink).

 

“I haven’t seen the dogs in a really long time, you know…” Nagito tries to change the subject, but to no avail. She’s persistent, and he avoids her extremely sharp gaze. Sonia is no idiot, she’s perceptive and she can be serious when she wants to. He supposes that that was one of those moments, because she doesn’t take her eyes off of him and it’s a bit unnerving.

 

He reaches out for her hand and she complies. She has soft hands, he notices, and they’re nice. He doesn’t tell her this though, that’d be a bit awkward. Opening the nail polish, he slowly paints her thumb. It turns out that Nagito isn’t the best at painting nails, but Sonia doesn’t mind, she’s still looking at him.

 

“Yeah, sorry about that. How would you feel about making some new friends? I think you’d like it, it’d be fun, believe me!” Sonia exclaims desperately, a small supporting smile on her face. At least she’s trying, but it doesn’t work very well. She’s not subtle, he knows something is up.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea.” He responds, frowning down at her thumb. It looks horrible, but she doesn’t seem to notice. He continues anyway, in hopes that she won’t hate him for making her nails look bad. But Sonia has always forgiven him for the things he’s done, bad or not, she’s too forgiving for her own good.

 

“Well…,” The blonde starts, laughing nervously and looks down at her hands. She doesn’t mind the nail polish, there’s an unsure look on her face. He’s now sure that she’s done something. Sonia can’t lie very well, they both know that, but Nagito never tries to pry or anything.

 

“I’ve signed you up for group therapy.” She finishes with a gulp, looking him in the eye shyly.

 

Nagito’s hand stops abruptly. He had not known she would do something like that. Last time he was in group therapy…no, he didn’t want to think about that. It was dumb to do that, to get lost in the past issues. It didn’t matter anymore, it had no purpose. She notices, and opens her mouth to say something but closes it again. She looks guilty, remorse filling her light blue eyes. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and resumes painting her nails with shaking hands.

 

“I’m sorry- It’s just- I thought it would be good! I know I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. I-.” She rambles, sighing and stopping herself from any further explanations or excuses. “It’s this Monday. You really should go. I’ll- I’ll go with you too! It’ll be f-“

 

“I’m not going.” He interrupts her nervous words of reassurance. Nagito doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t want her to try to comfort him or give him pity. He’s frustrated with her, and she knows that. She doesn’t want that but she can’t stop it, and she knows that she probably won’t sleep that night. But she has to put her foot down, she knows that, even if she hates being so demanding.

 

“You need to. Nagito, it’ll be _good_ for you, you’ll meet new _people_.” She replies, eyes sharp again as she uses his first name, showing that she’s trying to be serious. Nagito finishes painting her nails, and slams the nail polish back onto the bed, getting the color on the covers. Her eyes widen slightly at the maddened gesture.

 

“You’re going.” Sonia’s voice is shaking when she says this, she isn’t afraid, Nagito knows that. She’s angry too. They’re both angry at how stubborn they are, because in truth, the two are hard headed and nothing could really stop that, no matter how apathetic Nagito may be. The blue eyed woman screws the brush back onto the little bottle of nail polish, grabbing a tissue and cleaning the liquid that spilled. He was going to have to get new covers, and he frowned slightly. Why did he have to ruin everything? They were having fun, they were doing okay and then he had to explode. She can tell that he’s blaming himself.

 

“I’m sorry. You know it’s not your fault. Don’t be so hard on yourself, Komaeda. Come on, I’ll do your hair now. Time for a better documentary, yeah?” Sonia suggests politely, trying to brush over the incident lightly, trying to pretend like it didn’t happen. He nods, knowing she’s just pampering him. He doesn’t mind the efforts of making him feel better, even if it doesn’t work. As she’s putting on a new documentary, he mutters an apology, and he’s not sure if she heard it or not.

 

She did, but doesn’t say anything. Apologies have never come easy to him, she doesn’t want to embarrass him or add any more stress to what he already has. That’s just Sonia, she tries to be as caring and insightful with him as possible. After putting on the documentary, she brushes his hair and makes it look nice, even tying ribbons to a few pieces. She’s back to laughing, but there’s still a bit of tension.

 

He does her hair too, and finds that he’s not very good at it. Nagito had attempted to tie her hair into a bun like he’d seen a couple of nurses do, or have in their hair. It wasn’t as easy as it looked, and he’s sure that he pulled her hair a couple of times. If he did, she didn’t complain or notice.

 

When he’s done, it looks really bad but she laughs anyway, promising that she’ll teach him how to do his own hair since it’s getting a bit long (but not noticeably so). It’s beyond him how she even knew but he accepts the offer.

 

When they’re done with styling each other’s hair, Sonia puts a movie on, and Nagito breathes out a sigh of relief quietly. He’s glad it’s not another documentary, he didn’t know how much longer he could take hearing the formal voice in the background. They end up blowing through two movies, both of which are very funny and he ends up laughing a couple of times, but remains kind of apathetic through the whole time.

 

When the second movie ends, it’s nighttime and it’s dark outside. Sonia collects her things, saying that it was about time for her to start driving home since she couldn’t stay at the hospital forever. He nods, and she quickly remembers to get him a new blanket, which is in place of his old one very quickly.

 

Before she leaves she gives him a warm hug and benign smile. The hug lasts longer than a normal hug should, but that’s probably because he doesn’t hug back. He ends up hugging back slightly by the end of it though, and he hears her chuckle.

 

“Monday will be fine, okay? I promise. Get some sleep, you look like you need it.”

 

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sonia and nagito interactions? that's cool i guess.  
> i think i'm excited to write the group therapy chapter because there are characters that i really wanna add.  
> kudos and comments always make my day, and constructive criticism is always helpful!  
> (i honestly don't read over these things so if there are any mistakes feel free to point them out!!)


	5. notice [IMPORTANT]

Hi! So this notice is extremely important to me and I'd really love if everyone were to partake in reading this. Before I continue on a long explanation, proposition, and conclusion, I have to say that **this story will not be continued**. With that being said, allow me to resume with what I wanted to say.

 

Firstly and foremost, I'm not confident with this story or the way I've written it for the first four chapters. I think that in order for a story to be good it needs to have a good foundation, which I don't represent nor show any signs of having in the prologue. The writing is sloppy and short, lacking details and originality for the most part. The first chapter of a story, the first paragraph gives the reader a good idea of how the story is going to be and that's what I mean by a good foundation. I don't think that was exhibited in my prologue, therefore not giving readers the want to move onto the next chapter and so on. I think in writing these four chapters I muddled ideas together way too soon, didn't focus on character introductions very well, and didn't get an idea or plot clearly across. This is not what I want for a story, and I don't want people to read this and think that this is all I am capable of writing when it isn't my best. The lack of my own writing style baffles me and I think that I started writing way too soon.

 

I'd also like to explain that I came up with idea very late at night whilst talking to one of my friends. It was originally supposed to be an angsty one-shot, but when I wrote the prologue I thought that I might turn it into multi-chapters, which is something I've never done well before. I think over the span of time that I wrote the first chapters is when I was adding ideas and thinking of things that I could do with this story to make chapters, but these things turned into bigger things inside the story. In itself, this was supposed to focus on one plot and instead I thought of many so I could fill holes. I don't want to tell what those ideas were, or what my original idea was because it's still something I want to write about, and I don't want to openly talk about those ideas as of now. Another thing I'd like to say is that I usually write these chapters on weekends and very late at night (or morning) because I hold off on writing due to the fact that I don't know what to put into chapters and how to achieve the ending that I originally had wanted. This is honestly me just lacking responsibility and being immature.

 

So, my proposition is that I should start this story over again because I do not want this idea to go to waste, especially after having so much time thinking about it and adding ideas to the plot. I've come up with better ideas to fill holes in the plot and make it more interesting overall, with a lot more characters and a lot more depth into the story instead of just one little hospital au. Now this is an idea that I am confident in, and I really want to charge forward into. Instead of holding things off and waiting weeks to write the next chapter, I want to write chapters beforehand. I was thinking that firstly, I should plot down everything that I want in a chapter and organize everything, and then write half of the chapters. With that, I could post the half one chapter at a time with a scheduled date and spend time working on the other half, or just write out all the chapters beforehand. By no means does this hint that the story is going to end, I just want to take more time to carefully write everything out and make things better. I want to see what I can do with my ideas and then perhaps I'd like to turn this into a series, depending on how the first one goes.

 

With that being said, I want to conclude that this is not the end of this story, it's just the current idea will be slightly discarded. I am not going to delete the first four chapters right now, but I will when I have everything written out. So the prologue will be replaced with a complete new one and the other chapters will be deleted, along with this chapter as well. Before I end this, I want to say thank you to everyone who has read this and who got through to the end of my admittingly cringy writing. Thank you to anyone and everything who's given me tips to improve because I will surely use them!! I hope everyone is okay with this!

**Author's Note:**

> I am not really confident with this prolouge, or this idea in general? Because, frankly, the prolouge is quite depressing and I don't want people to think that this will be a depressing story.
> 
> I'm proud to say that I can promise everyone that the first actual chapter will be way different! I hope you enjoyed.


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